


Meet Cute

by SomethingBlue42



Series: Suptober 2020 [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Demon Dean Winchester, Gen, Priest Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26938132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingBlue42/pseuds/SomethingBlue42
Summary: Suptober prompt Day 3: Demonic“Good evening, I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before. I wanted to introduce myself. I’m-““Monsignor Castiel Novak, a Chaplain of His Holiness, Archpriest over this here diocese and general all-around great guy.” The man turned to face him fully, and Castiel’s shock soon turned to dread as green eyes flashed black.“Lucifer,” Castiel whispered under his breath and fought the urge to cross himself, glancing around to see if anyone else saw or heard. His eyes flashed back to green as a broad smile pulled across his face.“Not quite,” The man tipped his head to the side, shooting him with a finger gun. “But close. Dean Winchester. Knight of Hell.”
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester
Series: Suptober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960396
Comments: 3
Kudos: 44





	Meet Cute

**Author's Note:**

> This is meant to be a stand-alone but it IS kind of open-ended. I'd continue it if there's interest ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“Father?”

Castiel looked up from the industrial-sized pan of lasagna, a ladle of sauce suspended mid-air as he squinted out the small window between the kitchen and the main hall. Anna’s face, stark against her black habit, floated there, brows pinched, and Castiel laid down the ladle wiping his hands on the apron at his waist. They’d been together since he graduated Seminary, and she’d taken her Rites, a random placement in a random community that blossomed into a ten-year partnership. They were closer than siblings, bond bone-deep. Both acknowledged that two people couldn’t get closer unless they became intimate, and even with their vows, neither was interested in that.

Castiel rested his forearms on the window and rested his chin on them. “What’s up?”

Anna glanced over her shoulder. Castiel’s eyes followed to a table where one man sat alone, his tray of food sitting untouched as he focused on an open book on the table next to him. Castiel’s gaze swept over the hall, other tables crammed full with the destitute and downtrodden. When he looked to Anna again, her eyes met his, and her face was dark. 

Castiel’s jaw clenched, and he gave a short nod, moving away from the window to exit the kitchen. He was waylaid many times in his effort to get across the room, pausing to speak to regulars and offer prayers and blessings. When he finally approached the near-empty table where the young man sat alone, his senses had dulled from the previous interactions. The surge of electricity that crackled along his skin when he was within arm’s length startled him. 

“Evenin’ Padre.” 

The man’s voice carried a whiskey growl, but he looked and smelled sober. What’s more, he was clean - clothes, skin, and hair - the duffle on the floor next to his feet aged, but unlike other diner’s personal items did not announce itself with a stench. His profile was like a Greek relief, strong jaw, straight nose, wide eyes, and soft brow, lashes long enough to cast a shadow. He was dressed simply in jeans, boots, and a flannel over a t-shirt, his jacket hanging on the back of his chair. 

“Good evening, I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before. I wanted to introduce myself. I’m-“

“Monsignor Castiel Novak, a Chaplain of His Holiness, Archpriest over this here diocese and general all-around great guy.” The man turned to face him fully, and Castiel’s shock soon turned to dread as green eyes flashed black.

“Lucifer,” Castiel whispered under his breath and fought the urge to cross himself, glancing around to see if anyone else saw or heard. His eyes flashed back to green as a broad smile pulled across his face.

“Not quite,” The man tipped his head to the side, shooting him with a finger gun. “But close. Dean Winchester. Knight of Hell.”

“What do you want?”

Dean faced forward again, placing the receipt he was using as a bookmark onto the page and allowed the book to close. He gestured with his hand. “Have a seat.” Castiel didn’t move, and Dean glanced up expectantly before doing a double-take. His face went sour. “Oh come on. Jesus ate with the sinners.”

“Jesus didn’t eat with _demons_.”

Dean held up a hand, face contorting into incredulity. “Only because demons had better things to do. Look, we need to talk, and the halogen over your head, while I find the halo it’s giving you adorable, is hurting my eyes. Sit.”

Castiel looked over his shoulder, eyes finding Anna’s in the serving line, and she looked ready to pounce, paying no attention to how much she was serving or to whom. Castiel gave a discrete pump of his hand at his waist; _I got this_. Anna’s lips turned down, skeptical. Castiel turned back to Dean, looking at Anna now, eyes narrowed, but his attention returned to Castiel as he lowered himself slowly to the chair across from Dean.

“You got something you wanna confess there, Padre?”

Castiel blinked at him. “No.”

Dean glanced over at Anna again. “Wouldn’t blame you. Red-heads.” The demon let out a low whistle, and Castiel bristled back straightening.

“Sister Milton and I-“

“Are very good friends. I know I’m just fucking with you.” 

Castiel’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Profanity is-”

“Like sprinkles on a language sundae. Look,” Dean shoved his tray of food to the side and placed his elbows on the table, hands folding. “I need your help.”

Castiel’s eyebrows raised, gaze lifting from the tan expanse of Dean’s forearms to his face. Were it not for the queasy feeling in his stomach, Castiel would have found him devastatingly beautiful. 

_The devil doesn’t come to you with a red face and horns; he comes to you disguised as everything you’ve ever wanted._

Castiel shook his head. “Help with what?”

Dean leaned in closer, elbows shifting, fingers flexing, and Castiel’s gaze dropped to watch the movement. Something at the crook of Dean’s right elbow caught his eye. What looked like a scar or a brand, shiny and pink, and the sight of it induced such a sense of dread in Castiel that he was halfway through a Hail Mary before he even realized he was praying. Dean licked his lips.

“Dunno if you’ve noticed this, Padre, but there’s a holy war going on.”

Castiel blinked. “I’m… sorry? What?”

Dean rolled his eyes and shot out his arms, pushing his sleeves up further as if irritated. “You performed an exorcism last week, did you not?”

Castiel’s mouth popped open, eyes skittering around the room, but no one was paying them any attention. In fact, it seemed as if everyone around them was going out of their way to pretend they didn’t exist, the homeless code of conduct in dangerous situations. That was when Castiel realized he wasn’t afraid. He didn’t feel any danger, just suspicion, and distaste as if Dean were something foul and unclean, which actually he was.

“How do you know about that?”

Dean gave a shrug. “Word gets around when holy men are causing the smoke-out and not hunters.”

“Hunters?”

Dean smirked. “Don’t get cute with me.”

Castiel’s face was smooth, voice devoid of any emotion. “I have never once attempted to be cute.”

This made Dean smile, and it seemed to chase the darkness away for a moment. “You're probably wondering why _I,_ as the only remaining Knight of Hell-“

“There were more of you?”

Dean’s eyes tightened, his look cutting. Castiel felt his throat close, whether it was the demon’s doing or not, he wasn’t sure. 

“-would bother following up on something so mundane.” Dean opened his hands. “Exorcism by priest is enough to get the lower levels tittering, but it’s a bit below my pay grade,” Dean leaned back in his chair, hooked an arm on the back and gestured to himself, “as you can imagine.” He paused, bottom lip pulling between his teeth, and Castiel felt a shiver go down his spine. “But when one is banishing angels as well…” Dean clicked his tongue, eyes dancing.

Castiel was rigid in his seat, eyes set just over the demon’s shoulder, his heart thumping hard against his rib cage. He’d told Anna he’d cut his hand on his bicycle lock when she’d seen the bandage at breakfast this morning. She knew it was a lie but didn’t prod, no doubt chalking it up to the fact that some things were only between a man and his god. Castiel clenched his fist now, feeling the wound throb.

“Where’d you learn that anyway?” Dean’s voice was low, elbows on the table again as he leaned in further this time, so close Castiel could feel the heat from the demon’s hands now only an inch from his own. “Enochian banishing sigils aren’t your standard seminary school test fodder. That’s ancient magic.”

Castiel refused to answer, eyes still focused on the door to the hall, seeing flurries of snow falling lazily through the window panel. Dean’s head tilted, forcing him to look into the demon’s green eyes, and he could almost pass for human with that look of empathy on his face.

“I’ve done my research, Cas. You don’t exist before you entered Seminary.” 

Castiel’s eyes dropped to his lap, folded hands tugging back a little, and that’s when Dean’s hands parted, one landing on top to cover both of his. He expected it to burn or send an electric shock through his system. He expected revulsion and fear, and the desperate need to pull away. Instead, he found himself comforted by the warmth, not realizing his hands had been ice-cold until the large calloused hand seared against his.

“It’s a very long story,” Castiel mumbled finally, eyes trained on the ring adorning the right ring finger of Dean’s hand. It squeezed Castiel’s. 

“I’m immortal, dude. I got time.”

Castiel looked up then, a ghost of a laugh bubbling past his lips, and Dean smiled again wider this time, and Castiel’s breath caught in his throat, basking in the glow of his amusement. Castiel shook his head. “You’re a very strange demon.”

Dean snorted. “I get that a lot.”

“I have duties to finish here-“

“I can meet you later.” The response was immediate, almost eager and Castiel peered up at Dean, the twitch of his thumb the only indication that he might feel he’d come off too eager. “The confessional? Say midnight?” Dean’s grin turned wolfish, and Castiel didn’t know why, but he blushed as he looked down and nodded. Dean’s hand patted his, and Castiel looked up as Dean stood, observing him as he bent to grab his duffle and sling it over his shoulder.

Dean threw him a wink, eyes flashing black as he said in parting, “It’s a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews/Kudos are <3
> 
> [Visit me on Tumblr](https://desti-feeels.tumblr.com)  
> 


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